


Battle Of The Bladders

by decadent_mousse



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Awkward Dates, Bladder Control, Concerts, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 09:21:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3723589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decadent_mousse/pseuds/decadent_mousse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt needs to pee.  Unfortunately he is one person in a sea of people who need to pee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Battle Of The Bladders

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ClassyFangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClassyFangirl/gifts).



> A gift for [ClassyFangirl!](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ClassyFangirl/pseuds/ClassyFangirl). Happy birthday, friend! <3

Everyone around Newt was screaming and waving their arms in the air, and he was pretty sure he was going to die. 

“Do you have a bladder made out of iron or something, man?  How are you not _dying_ right now?”

Hermann’s eyes never moved from the stage.  “Perhaps because I didn’t feel the need to drink enough to fill a car’s gas tank in the span of an hour.”

“They were free refills!”

That time Hermann glanced at him, annoyed.  “Do you put everything marked ‘free’ in your mouth?”

Newt opened his mouth to say something.

“Do _not_.”

“I know, I know, you can’t take me anywhere.”

“Apparently not.  Now would you mind not talking through the _entire_ performance?”

“It’s a rock concert, Hermann,” Newt exclaimed, raising his voice.  “Everyone’s making noise.  There’s a mosh pit over there!  I kinda doubt me complaining about having to _pee_ is going to ruin the band’s vibe, okay?”

Hermann could complain about Newt’s complaining all he wanted, but that didn’t change the fact that Newt had to go.  They were packed in the middle of their row like sardines, though, and short of climbing over the chairs – and people – he wasn’t sure how he was going to reach the bathroom.

“What am I gonna do?” he whined loudly.

Hermann’s facial expression was shades of “contemplating where to bury the body.”  “Hold it.  There will be an intermission shortly and the pathway out of here will be clear for you to go.”

“Yeah, okay.  Fine.”

He’d held it this long.  He could wait a few more minutes, right?

~

A few minutes later, Newt was pretty sure he was going to die.  He could see the headlines now: “Local Scientist Dies At Rock Concert After His Bladder Explodes.”  That wasn’t really on his list of top five ways to go.  He hadn’t survived drifting with a kaiju brain just so he could wet his pants in seat fourteen, row five at some grungy concert venue a year and a half later.

“Will you stop your moaning?” Hermann whispered, giving him a sidelong glare.

“I don’t think you realize how bad I have to go,” Newt argued.  “This is an _emergency_.”

“Five minutes.”

“But–”

“This is their _last_ song, Newton.  After this, I promise you, you will be able to go relieve yourself.  I’ll even go with you, if you wish.”

Newt squirmed uncomfortably.  “Yeah, okay.”

Hermann was right, that song was the last one, and as the band left the stage and the crew started moving instruments and props off the stage and setting up for the next band, people started to get up and move to restock on snacks, make out, and whatever else people did between bands at a concert.

Newt made sure to wait long enough for the traffic to die down.  He didn’t want to get stuck in the middle of a mob, because once he stood up, what little control he had left was going to go out the window and he was going to have to reach that bathroom.  

“Right, then,” Hermann said, finally.  “Let’s go.”

“You don’t have to go with me.”

“It’s on the way to the food court, anyway.  I’ll drop you off there and come find you on my way back to our seats.”

“Yeah, okay.”

He had to fight back the huge surge of relief he felt when he finally jumped out of his seat, because otherwise it was going to end up being a huge surge of something else, too.  Finally, he was going to get to a bathroom.   _Finally_.  

“Newton, do try to contain yourself.”

Newt bounced frantically.  “Uh, I have been?  For like _hours_ , dude.”

Hermann shook his head and nudged him gently.  “Let’s get going, then.”

~

The nearest bathroom wasn’t that far from the seating, but it might as well have been on the other side of the arena for as much good it did Newt.

“Shit,” he whined, as he and Hermann rounded the corner only to collide with the last person in a very, very long line into the bathrooms.  “What are we gonna do?”

“Find another bathroom,” Hermann replied, patting his shoulder in what was probably supposed to be a comforting gesture, but mostly it just jostled him – and his bladder.  “A place this large surely has more than one bathroom.”

Newt didn’t have it in him to ask what they’d do if _that_ bathroom had a line a mile wide, too.  He wasn’t even sure if he could hold it long enough to get to the next closest bathroom, but he had to try.  Wetting his pants in the middle of a crowd at a rock concert wasn’t his idea of good times.

“Yeah, okay.”

~

The “next bathroom” took them fifteen minutes to reach and they had to push and shove and slide their way past what had to have been the entire audience to get there.  The bathroom was one of those tiny ones with only a couple of stalls and the line was even worse.

“I’m gonna die.  My bladder’s gonna explode and I’m gonna die.”

“I very much doubt that.”

“Dude, I’m at my limit.  I just– I can’t hold it anymore.”

Hermann looked thoughtful.  “I have an idea.”

Newt bounced on the balls of his feet anxiously.  “If it involves something other than me standing here and pissing myself, I’m in.  I’m _so_ in.”

“Follow me.”

~

Newt was so happy just to find somewhere to pee, at that point, that he didn’t really care that it was a cramped portable toilet.  It was definitely not ideal and it kind of smelled, but he’d take it.  God, he’d take it.

“How did you know this would be here?”

“An educated guess.  They renovated the stadium recently, and where there’s construction there’s usually alternate facilities available.”

Lucky for Newt there was still one of these things left sitting around, then.  He let out a heavy sigh of relief and turned towards the toilet.  He reached for the zipper of his jeans and…

“Oh my god,” he groaned.  “Oh my _god_ , are you kidding me?”

It was stuck.  His zipper was stuck.  No big deal, right?  Tug on it hard enough and it was bound to unzip or rip open, and either way he’d be _free_ – he could live with torn pants if he had to – right?  Except the damn thing would _not_ unzip.  It didn’t show any signs of busting apart at the seams, either.  The damn thing was like the Fort Knox of pants zippers.

“Hermann!” he yelled, trying to keep the hysteria out of his voice.  “Are you still out there?”

Faintly, he heard, “Where is it that you think I would have gone?”

“Could you come in here for a sec?”

“ _What_?  Why?”

“I’m having, umm, t-technical difficulties.”

“Oh for the love of…  What _kind_ of technical difficulties?”

“My jeans won’t unzip, man!”

From the other side of the door he heard what sounded an awful lot like muffled laughter.

“ _Hermann_!”

“Yes, alright.  I’m coming in.”

The door creaked open and Hermann carefully stepped inside.  Portable toilets weren’t exactly huge.  They had the bare minimum of space needed to fit a toilet and a person and to give that person enough room to do their business – just barely – and it definitely wasn’t meant to fit two people.  It made Newt feel a little claustrophobic.

“Let’s see what the problem is, shall we?” Hermann suggested, smirking and pulling out his reading glasses.

“You’re enjoying this way too much, y’know.”

“Ridiculous.  Lurking in a toilet is not my idea of a romantic evening.”  He was _smiling_ , though, the jerk.

He looked downward and grasped the hem of Newt’s jeans to get a better look.

“Be careful.  If you touch me, I might explode.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

Newt rolled his eyes upward.  Then he rolled them back downward.  The ceiling was gross.  How’d that stuff even get up there?

Hermann tugged gently at the zipper and frowned.  Then he tugged again, more urgently.  Newt’s bladder was practically _screaming_ and Hermann jostling his junk really wasn’t helping matters.

“Hermann, God–”

“Newton, please remain calm,” Hermann chastised.  “I believe the zipper is caught on a thread.”

“Great.  That’s just great.”

Hermann reached into one of his vest pockets and brandished a tiny pair of scissors.

“You just happen to keep a pair of scissors on you?  Really?”

“You never know when they might prove useful.  As our current situation demonstrates.  Fortunately, I think I can reach the thread with these scissors.  Otherwise I’d likely have to cut you out of these ridiculous pants of yours.”

“Dude, cut whatever you need to cut so I can pee, I _don’t care_.”

Hermann’s mouth was a tight, thin line as he reached down with the scissors and with a careful, deft motion snipped.  When he tugged the zipper again, it moved effortlessly and Newt was free at last.  

“Okay, okay, move!”

“Newton–”

Newt shouldered past him and barely moved forward in time for his pee trajectory to land in the toilet and not all over Hermann’s shoes.

He had to go so bad, it almost hurt when he finally was able to.  It felt so good to finally cut it loose.  He didn’t care that he was in a dingy portable toilet at the ass-end of the stadium, it was just so great to not be pissing his pants.

He groaned loudly.

“Good lord,” Hermann muttered.

“I’m happy, okay?”

“Clearly.  Are you done?”

“Hold on a sec.”  He peed more.  And more.

“How could you possibly–”

“I’ve been holding it for hours. Trust me, I had a tsunami’s worth of pee stored up.”

“That’s a lovely mental image, Newton.”

“You’re welcome.”  He shook it off and zipped his pants back up.  “Okay, _now_ I’m done.”

“Let’s get a move on, then.  If we hurry, we can get back before we miss the next group’s opening.”

Hermann turned and grabbed the handle of the door to turn it, and… nothing happened.  It didn’t move.  At all.  The door handle didn’t move.

“The door appears to be stuck.”

“You mean we’re _trapped_ in here?”

“We’re not trapped, Newton.  We just have to–”  He jiggled the handle a little more forcefully, but it didn’t do any good.  The door refused to open.

“Yeah, that worked like a charm.”

“I’m open to suggestions,” Hermann hissed.

“Alright, move over.”

Hermann looked around and gestured exasperatedly.  “Where is it, exactly, that you expect me to move?”

There wasn’t a whole lot of maneuvering room with the two of them crammed in there.  Newt was basically straddling the toilet and Hermann was standing by the door while also trying to avoid tripping over stray bits of toilet paper and Newt.  

“Okay, scoot over that way a little bit and I think I can slide by you.”

Hermann sighed, but he shimmied sideways as much as space and his leg allowed.  Newt moved towards the door and shoved it with his shoulder.

“That was your plan?”

“Dude, if the lock’s jammed, the only way we’re getting out of here is if we bust the door down.”

“Newton–”

The stall creaked ominously.

“Hold on a second.  I think it’s working.”

The door was just plastic, and the lock was… not even metal, he didn’t think, just slightly sturdier plastic – with an emphasis on “slightly.”  Sooner or later it was going to break open.  These things weren’t built to put up with sustained abuse, which would’ve been bad during a zombie apocalypse, but it worked in their favor.  

A couple more really hard hits would probably do the trick.

“ _Newton_ –”

He slammed his shoulder into the door, putting all of his weight into it, and the door didn’t break, but something, somewhere, groaned loudly and everything went kind of lopsided.  

“Uh–”  He didn’t even manage to get the “oh” of his “uh oh” out before the portable toilet tilted.  The door didn’t move, the whole damn thing moved, and Newt had about half a second to think about what that meant before everything went kind of sideways and his stomach felt like it was going to turn inside out.

Hermann shouted something angrily in what sounded like German and grabbed him, and Newt wasn’t sure if he planned on strangling him or was just trying to keep him from smacking his head on something as everything tipped over.  The end result was they smashed into the wall together as it went down.

“Oww,” Newt groaned, “Holy shit.”

“Yes,” Hermann hissed.

Newt blinked and looked down in alarm.  When Hermann grabbed him, he’d grabbed Hermann back, and their arms were still wrapped around each other.  

“Are you okay?”

“I am _fine_.  I am, however, covered in filth.”

“Covered” was a bit of an exaggeration.  The momentum of the fall had slung some stuff out of the toilet, but overall it wasn’t nearly as bad as Newt would’ve expected from a capsized toilet.  Probably because they’d been the first ones to use it in awhile.  Most of what was on the two of them was probably Newt’s more than it was anyone else’s.  So, really, they’d kind of lucked out.

Hermann didn’t seem to think so, though.  He looked ready to throttle him.

Newt smiled at him nervously.  “I, uh, I love you.”

Before Hermann could say anything or murder him, someone knocked on the side of the portable toilet.

“Hey, are you guys done in there?  I really need to pee, bro.”

At least three or four other voices grumbled and mumbled in agreement somewhere outside, and Newt realized there was something way more embarrassing than pissing his pants at a rock concert, and it was being caught locked in a knocked over bathroom, covered in pee with your boyfriend with a line forming outside.


End file.
